


Welcome to the New Age

by sky_reid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Breathplay, Comedy, Confusion, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Masturbation, Online Friendship, Power Play, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, background arthur/percival, borderline stalking, generally irresponsible behaviour, past gwaine/everyone, some bdsm elements, tags might continue appearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting the job as tech support for <i>Pendragon Inc.</i> is both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to Merlin. Mostly the best, really; after all, it's how he meets Gwaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the New Age

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eurydice72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/gifts).



> title from imagine dragons' _radioactive_
> 
> happy holidays, eurydice! you wanted dirty talk, power play, ust, banter, happy endings, breathplay, shyness (and more) and i tried to work in as much of it as i could, so i hope you like it :)
> 
> having said that, this is not a pairing or genre i _usually_ write, don't judge me too much lol
> 
> oh, just a fair warning (that i didn't feel was serious enough to be added to the tags), there's a somnophilia _fantasy_ that could be seen as bordering on dub-con so yeah
> 
> many thanks to sarah, beth and kay for various reasons, but mostly for being my friends :3

 

_Welcome to the New Age_

 

Merlin drags his bare feet over the cool tile and feels for his tea mug in the cupboard more than looking for it. He puts the kettle on and drops a teabag in the mug before going to the bathroom to splash some ice-cold water on his face. It wakes him up, but his eyes are so puffy from sleep he can barely open them anyway. He stumbles back to the kitchen only to realize he forgot to turn the water on. The digital clock on the stove reads 2:36pm.

 

Getting the job at _Pendragon Inc._ is simultaneously the best and the worst thing that has ever happened in Merlin's life. His job consists primarily of monitoring the online work of other employees, occasional tech support (surprisingly, he doesn't often get that type of call), and advice on software choices and updates – all of which can be done from home, so he hasn't actually been to the _Pendragon_ building since his job interview. Not having to go to an office or work long hours allows him to continue pursuing his Master's degree (or, more commonly, go out late and sleep in). The pay is good too. At the same time, Merlin's never felt less productive. He's been going out and getting drunk more often than he was as a sophomore, he's had more one-night-stands than sheet changes and the number of hours he's been spending wasting time on his laptop is frankly abhorrent. He should probably at least pretend to be trying to get his shit together, but it's far too tempting to just chill out or have fun when he knows he has nowhere to be tomorrow.

 

He absently pours the boiling water into his mug and adds some milk after he smells it to make sure that it hasn't gone off. He takes the mug to his room and snuggles back under his blankets for a while longer.

 

When he wakes up next, his tea is almost cold and the old alarm clock on his nightstand shows that it's well past three. He stretches his arms out and reluctantly pushes the covers off. His phone shows two new texts from Freya and one from Will, probably trying to piece together what the hell happened last night, so Merlin doesn't check them since he doesn't think he can be of much help with that. He rubs at his eyes and gulps down his tea before grabbing his laptop from the floor and waking it up. He logs onto the company server as soon as the system is up and lets the homepage load while he checks his personal e-mail. There's a message from Will with a link attached which Merlin isn't sure he wants to open, and one from someone named Tatiana about owing her a spectacular threesome he promised. Merlin scratches at his forehead slowly, entirely too uncertain whether it's a joke.

 

He doesn't have time to decide before his phone starts ringing, the Lady Gaga song surprising him. “Will, you asshole,” he answers, “you changed my ringtone again!”

 

Will laughs loudly. “What to?”

 

“You sound too excited for me to tell you,” Merlin replies with a grin as he closes the tab with _Gmail_.

 

“Boo,” Will whines. “Anyway, wanna go out tonight?”

 

“Aren't you supposed to be looking for a job?” Merlin asks, but it lacks conviction since he really has no ground to stand on.

 

And sure enough, Will's immediate reaction is, “Aren't you supposed to be _doing_ yours?”

 

“Whatever,” Merlin drawls, though he does actually look at the _Pendragon_ homepage. The animated Pendragon crest at the top glistens at him. He doesn't have any new messages (not that he's expecting any, given that he's only been working there for just over a month and hasn't made any effort to socialize) but there's a notice about a picnic on Saturday, all employees welcome. Merlin snorts and hides it.

 

“So? Joining me and Freya tonight?” Will asks again.

 

Merlin just hums as he pops the legal department's group chat and drags it to the bottom of the screen. Reading chats between employees is not, strictly speaking, in Merlin's job description; and normally he doesn't pay attention to the little red notification at the side of his screen, but he's grown fond of the legal department and their little talks. They all appear to be friends and they don't sound much older than Merlin himself, and ever since Merlin accidentally opened their chat instead of tech support's two weeks ago and caught them talking about seeing _The Avengers_ for the third time, he hasn't been able to stop following it. Only six people are still logged in; he notices _lady_m_ , _gwennn_ and _sir_lance_ are not online anymore and then promptly feels like a total stalker for knowing they tend to leave early. He minimizes the chat.

 

He clears his throat. “I could go out, yeah.”

 

“All right, meet you at _The Elephant_ at 10?”

 

Merlin clicks on the username _doc-gai_ and types in the password to access the account history. “Make that 11 and you have yourself a deal,” he says into the phone.

 

“Works for me,” Will agrees. “See you then!”

 

Merlin just hums affirmatively, too focused on skimming through the webpages _doc-gai_ visited. He doesn't know why he picked possibly the most boring person employed at _Pendragon Inc._ to start with. He's only halfway through the list before he gets up to get more tea.

 

~*~

 

Merlin is sitting at the kitchen table, eating an apple and playing _Papa's Cupcakeria_ , when his custom software pings to inform him that someone is visiting a page that's not related to work. He pauses the game and switches tabs to find that _obligatoryblackguy_ is reading his e-mail. There's an e-invite to a birthday party and a message from _Lil' sister_ with some photos attached and a bunch of other things that Merlin leaves him to reading. He shouldn't – in fact, he should send _obligatoryblackguy_ a message warning him that he's not allowed to visit personal online pages; but in the seven weeks that Merlin's been doing this job, he's always turned a blind eye to innocuous things like e-mail accounts and Facebook since no one has been spending too much time on them.

 

He sees the notification next to the legal department's chat and decides to check it out after hovering over it for a few seconds. He's been trying not to stalk the _Pendragon_ lawyers and paralegals so much lately, but sometimes, like today, he just can't resist. There's something about watching the friendly banter between them that puts a smile on his face; sometimes it reminds him of how he interacts with his friends to the point where it almost makes him feel like he is part of their group as well (other times it just reminds him that he only has Freya and Will, and that he doesn't make friends easily, and that he's very much not a part of their group, and that he feels a little pathetic for finding comfort in somebody else's friendships, but today is one of those days when he laments his life choices and wonders what the hell he's doing with his life, so he's not going to think too much about his need to read somebody else's chat to cheer up right now).

 

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : u know u can send me photos on skype gwen? lol

 _gwennn_ : Writing e-mails is a dying art.

 _percy_jacks_ : you are literally the only person under 40 whos sad about that

 _goldylocks_ : you are literally the only person i know who doesn't use chat speak ONA CHAT

 _goldylocks_ : *ON A CHAT

 _gwennn_ : Well sue me for not wanting to butcher the English language.

 _baron_munchies_ : like it doesnt get butchered otherwise

 _baron_munchies_ : i hardly think were the worst thing thats happening to it

 _lady_m_ : be happy she doesn't send you letters, guys

 _gwennn_ : All right, all right, make fun all you want, but when was the last time you got an actual letter?

 _sir_lance_ : There's nothing wrong with being a little old-fashioned

 _cynical-terror_ : ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha why am i not surprised you're the one saying that XD

 _sir_lance_ : oh shut up

 _goodytwoshoes_ : all right, it's almost 2 who's taking the japanese today?

 _baron_munchies_ : not me

 _cynical-terror_ : not my turn

 _lady_m_ : not gonna be me

 _goldylocks_ : i did it last week

 _gwennn_ : I'll do it.

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : not me

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : oops late

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : lmao

 _baron_munchies_ : tbh i dont know how you have the patience to talk to them

 _baron_munchies_ : the dude doesnt know a word of english

 _baron_munchies_ : and i dont understand the girl enough to know if she speaks english or fucking ukranian

 _gwennn_ : It's not really their fault.

 _goodytwoshoes_ : you don't speak japanese either

 _cynical-terror_ : says the guy who was the first to try to pawn off the call

 _goldylocks_ : nobody knows japanese i bet even the japanese don't know japanese

 _lady_m_ : yeah but japanese is not the de facto lingua franca of virtually everything

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : i tink u got ur point across lol

 _gwennn_ : Have to go, wish me luck!

 _cynical-terror_ : you're gonna needit

 

Merlin takes another bite of his apple as he watches _gwennn_ 's status turn to busy and ignores a ping notifying him that _baron_munchies_ is on Facebook.

 

~*~

 

“You mean to tell me,” Freya yells over the loud music, leaning over the table so Merlin can hear her, “that you've been working there for more than two months and you haven't met _anyone_?”

 

“I've met my boss.” Freya makes a face, though he's not sure if it's her I-smell-bullshit look directed at him or her I-taste-bullshit look directed at the drink she's just taken a sip of. “And his assistant!”

 

“He doesn't need to meet them, all he needs is their username and password!” Will says with a shrug.

 

“Precisely,” Merlin agrees, finishing his own drink.

 

“Yeah, but...” Freya takes another sip of the bright blue drink; it seems to be growing on her. “You spend half a day essentially following everything they do and you don't know what they look like. You don't even know all their real names! Isn't that weird?”

 

Merlin leans back into the leather sofa. He hasn't really thought about it like that, somehow somewhere in his head there's a vague image of every person he follows online and he just accepts that. He tries to imagine what _obligatoryblackguy_ really looks like, imagines him as the black waiter taking the order of the table next to them. It is kinda weird that he doesn't know something as basic as what he looks like, but he knows how the guy spends his days, and what he thinks about this movie or that, and that he's recently met a girl he really likes.

 

“Well, theoretically, I could access their personnel files,” Merlin says absently. Will raises an eyebrow at him. “Legally, I mean,” Merlin adds with a laugh.

 

“So why don't you?” Freya asks, sitting closer to him so she doesn't have to shout quite so loudly.

 

“Because it _doesn't matter_!” Will replies before Merlin can even seriously think about his answer. “All he needs to worry about is that they do their jobs instead of wasting time online, he can do that without knowing what they look like. It's not like they're friends! Or even real co-workers for that matter.” And yeah, that sounds about right to Merlin. He briefly wonders how different his days would be if he did actually have to go to work, if he had to spend time with the people who he only knows by weird nicknames and random passwords.

 

Freya hides her face in her hands and mumbles something Merlin can't possibly hope to catch. She looks up at them and, shaking her head, says, “We're pathetic. We are pathetic excuses for young adults.”

 

“Technically, we're too old to be labelled young adults,” Merlin murmurs to himself.

 

“Excuse you,” Will yells, spreading his arms around like his protest is self-explanatory, “we're going out, we're having fun, we're doing precisely what young people are supposed to do! We're only 20, more or less. Why should we have everything figured out?”

 

“We're 26, Will,” Merlin sighs at the same time as Freya snorts, “We're closer to 30 than we are to 20.”

 

“This is not how I imagined spending my 20's,” she laughs.

 

Merlin rubs at his forehead. This is not the conversation he wanted to have tonight; in fact, he goes out precisely to run away from thinking about stuff like this. But of course, Will can't help prying. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, think about it, we're in the same place where we were five years ago. We're not financially stable, we don't have real jobs—“

 

“Assuming Merlin doesn't plan to make a career at _Pendragon.”_

 

“—none of us are in a relationship, the last time we made actual friends was...” She makes a show of thinking back and counting on her fingers, but Merlin knows what she's gonna say before she even opens her mouth. “Fourteen years ago, when we met _each other_.”

 

“Are you saying we're not enough?” Will pouts. Freya reaches over to shove him on the shoulder.

 

“All I'm saying is, all we do is go out and get drunk.”

 

“But it's fun,” Will shrugs.

 

“Yeah, but—“ Freya starts to reply but Merlin has to stop her.

 

“Can we, please, _please_ , talk about something else now?” he asks, flagging down a waiter to order another round of drinks.

 

Freya pokes at his ribs. “Ooooh, strike a nerve?”

 

Merlin wants to say no, but that will only make Freya dig further so he grabs at her finger and says, “Maybe. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna get drunk and forget we ever had this conversation.”

 

“I'm sure _she_ won't mind helping you with that,” Will replies with a grin, jerking his head to the side. Merlin follows the movement and finds a girl at the bar looking at him with a smile, touching her necklace and playing with her hair. He smiles back at her.

 

~*~

 

 _baron_munchies_ : theres a new club opening tonight

 _baron_munchies_ : anyone wanna go

 _goldylocks_ : how you have the energy to go out every friday is beyond me

 _goodytwoshoes_ : seriously, i'm out

 _baron_munchies_ : awwww come on guys why so boring

 _lady_m_ : i might join you

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : me 2

 _gwennn_ : Sorry, but there's a book and a bottle of wine with my name on them.

 _sir_lance_ : Maybe we can get together for dinner or a movei instead

 _sir_lance_ : Movie

 _percy_jacks_ : i swear if you guys wanna watch the avengers again i'm gonna shoot myself

 _cynical-terror_ : shut up you love it too

 _percy_jacks_ : not enough to watch it 6 times in 6 weeks

 _lady_m_ : it's been more than 6 weeks since we first saw it

 _percy_jacks_ : whateverrrrrrrr

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : sorry im w/ percy on this 1

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : were not watching the avengers again

 _cynical-terror_ : whatever assholes

 _cynical-terror_ : we can watch sth else

 _goldylocks_ : i hear atonement is good ;)

 _lady_m_ : WE ARE NTO WATCHIGN ATONEMENT YOU ASSHOL

 _baron_munchies_ : ahahahahaha

 _goodytwoshoes_ : django?

 _gwennn_ : I veto anything by Tarantino.

 _lady_m_ : i second that

 _lady_m_ : les mis?

 _goldylocks_ : only if you're planning to castrate me first

 _gwennn_ : I'm down.

 _gwennn_ : With the movie, not the castration.

 _baron_munchies_ : im donw with the castration

 _lady_m_ : brother dear, please shove that casual sexism where only percy can find it

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : owwwwwww

 _cynical-terror_ : need some ice for that burn

 _percy_jacks_ : i'm not sure what to say to that

 _goodytwoshoes_ : i did not need that image in my head thank you

 _sir_lance_ : Maybe we should just

 _sir_lance_ : Go back to planning tonight

 _goldylocks_ : yeah yeah

 _gwennn_ : We can always stay in and rewatch some Disney.

 _baron_munchies_ : or marathon twd

 _baron_munchies_ : come on you know you want to

 _baron_munchies_ : ill download the episodes

 _baron_munchies_ : ill even get the snacks

 _baron_munchies_ : but its gonna have to bee somebody elses place

 _cynical-terror_ : you've been pushing for twd for ageeeeeeees

 _baron_munchies_ : because its gooooooooood

 _baron_munchies_ : well it looks good anyway

 _goodytwoshoes_ : looks being the operative word there

 _sir_lance_ : Twd?

 _goldylocks_ : the walking dead

 _goldylocks_ : have you not

 _goldylocks_ : spoken to him in the last like 5 months

 _lady_m_ : i've seen the first season actually

 _lady_m_ : it's good i second the motion

 _gwennn_ : I don't know, I don't really care about zombies.

 _percy_jacks_ : me neither tbh

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : me neither but i hear its actually interesting so id give it a shot

 _cynical-terror_ : you guys are the worst ever at organizing

 _cynical-terror_ : my place at 7

 _cynical-terror_ : gwaine's getting the snacks and the show

 _sir_lance_ : I can get drinks

 _cynical-terror_ : there you go was that so hard jfc

 

Merlin's laptop pings and a little speech bubble that says _kara-the-great_ _is on tumblr_ pops up at the top of his screen. He looks at the legal department's chat for a few more seconds, decidedly _not_ imagining he could join them for a relaxed night of friendly banter, zombie killing and too much food, then minimizes the chat and opens a private message to _kara-the-great_ to warn her about the amount of time she's been spending on webpages not related to work recently. It only feels a little hypocritical.

 

~*~

 

Merlin folds his legs under him on the sofa, hugging his bowl of cereal to his chest. He wakes his laptop up and lets _The Walking Dead_ continue playing in the background as he checks the recent activity on the _Pendragon_ company server. _doc-gai_ is uploading some sketches to the _R &D _cloud, _thewhitequeen_ has received a report from Italy, and _baron_munchies_ has sent an e-mail from his private account.

 

Merlin closes the light blue bubble that's warning him of _baron_munchies_ ' use of the internet for private matters without thinking much about it and switches to the _DAclips_ tab to watch Daryl make himself a necklace of zombie ears, but something nags at him in the back of his mind. _baron_munchies_ (and Merlin knows by now his real name is Gwaine, but thinking about him using the name his friends use somehow feels personal and close in a way Merlin isn't with any of these people) doesn't use his e-mail often; he most certainly doesn't usually send three or four personal e-mails a day like he has been lately, and god help him, Merlin is curious. His life really has gone to hell if the most exciting part of his day is reading e-mails from one person he has never met to another person he has never met.

 

He opens _baron_munchies_ ' _Gmail._ There are no unread e-mails, only two notifications from the social networks. The latest conversation is with someone named Elena. Merlin opens that. It's a series of 10 messages going back and forth between Elena S. and Gwaine M. starting three days ago. Merlin vaguely feels like what he's doing is wrong but the curiosity gets the best of him and he's opening earlier e-mails before he can talk himself out of it. He leaves his bowl on the coffee table and leans closer to read the e-mails.

 

It starts innocently enough, with Elena S. asking if Gwaine remembers her from a few nights ago from the bar and Gwaine replying that of course, how could he forget, then asking how she got his e-mail address. There's a few more introductory messages, Elena talking about seeing Gwen at a bakery the other day, talking with her, asking for Gwaine's e-mail, Gwaine telling her he had to work, that he'll be back, Elena asking him out. She sounds very cute, if a little unsure of what she's doing, but Gwaine, despite all of Merlin's expectations after all the teasing chats, doesn't call her out on clumsy attempts at being seductive, just plays along with it and easily agrees to a date.

 

Merlin feels a sudden surge of fondness for Gwaine, who, for all his tough Don Juan exterior, seems to have a heart of gold. He's just about to close the tab and leave _baron_munchies_ to his cute and gentlemanly ways when he catches the first line of the seventh e-mail – _I couldn't stop thinking about you last night after you left, had to carry on without you_ – and his hand freezes.

 

He skims over the rest of the e-mails, catching phrases such as _want you back inside me, never had anyone eat me out better than you, gonna flip you over next time and fuck you until you forget your name_. He blushes furiously, though he's not sure if it's because some of it is so cheesy it's downright bad or because some of it is so crude it's downright hot. He quickly closes the tab, accidentally clicking twice and closing his own Facebook as well.

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs at his eyes, trying to focus on Andrea's voice coming from his laptop. An image flashes through his head, of him on his knees, a long-haired, clean shaven, dark-skinned guy kissing down his back. He shakes his head to get rid of the image, but not before it sends a pleasant shiver through his body.

 

He grabs his laptop and drags it on his lap, opens a private message between himself and _baron_munchies_. He quickly types out a message and clicks send without even reading it. He hopes it sounds professional enough without making him look like a total no-life privacy-invading asshole.

 

He goes back to watching _The Walking Dead_ for the rest of work hours. He tells himself it's because it's a slow day and really, most of _Pendragon Inc._ employees are rather conscientious and his job is not to monitor everything _all_ the time (which is all true), but quite honestly, his main reason for avoiding to even look at the _Pendragon_ homepage is the fact that he is pretty sure just seeing the username _baron_munchies_ will immediately send a mix of saucy messages and extremely not-safe-for-work images through his brain. He waits for 5:30pm before he goes to retrospectively check online activity.

 

The legal department's chat is hovering at the bottom of his screen, 0 users logged in. For some reason, he just _knows_ _baron_munchies_ made a mention of him, maybe because the first thing he or Will would have done if they'd received a message like that would be to tell his friends. He opens the chat and scrolls back to around the time he sent the notice. He's not disappointed.

 

 _baron_munchies_ : you guys

 _baron_munchies_ : remember a few months ago when

 _baron_munchies_ : uther threatened to get someone t monitor us online

 _lady_m_ : yeah?

 _goldylocks_ : yes?

 _goodytwoshoes_ : yeah

 _baron_munchies_ : i think he mightve actually done it

 _goldylocks_ : yeah he did

 _goldylocks_ : he hired some dude for tech support

 _goldylocks_ : his job is to make sure our online activities don't intervene with our work or some shit i don't remmeber

 _goldylocks_ : *remember

 _sir_lance_ : You mean someone has been watching everything we do online

 _sir_lance_ : ?

 _baron_munchies_ : apparently

 _baron_munchies_ : Dear user baron_munchies, today at 13:27 you exchanged e-mails of inappropriate content with elena_sands@gmail.com. Use of internet for personal matters during work hours is against company policy and if it continues I will be forced to report you. -tech_support_m

 _gwennn_ : Good god, please tell me you didn't sleep with Elena.

 _baron_munchies_ : i didnt sleep with elena

 _cynical-terror_ : that's a lie

 _baron_munchies_ : ofc

 _gwennn_ : Why would you do that? I liked Elena!

 _baron_munchies_ : so did i ;)

 _lady_m_ : gross

 _percy_jacks_ : what does it matter

 _gwennn_ : I wanted her to become our friend!

 _goodytwoshoes_ : she's welcome

 _gwennn_ : Yeah, I'm sure that won't be awkward at all.

 _cynical-terror_ : oh pls literally everyone here has slept with gwaine

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : excuse me

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : i feel like my heterosexuality deserves a reward for resisting gwaine's charm

 _goldylocks_ : congratulations to your heterosexuality

 _lady_m_ : you're missing out tbh

 _baron_munchies_ : why thank you

 

Merlin quickly closes the chat.

 

~*~

 

“I'm gonna have to reinstall the system,” Merlin says when he tries to restart the computer for the sixth time without success.

 

“All this new technology,” Mr. Gaius sighs behind him. “We were better off with paper files and binders.”

 

Merlin snorts, but doesn't comment. He's on the seventh floor and across from him is a large room, separated by a glass door with nine desks and nine computers and nine people. The grey letters on the door read _LEGAL DEPARTMENT_.

 

Merlin keeps sneaking glances over the black screen in front of him. A dark-skinned woman is sitting at the desk closest to him, her short curly hair gathered in a messy bun. The loose-fitting white shirt she's wearing is unbuttoned just enough to be seductive without being unprofessional. He follows her stockinged legs from the shiny black pumps up to where the navy blue high-waist pencil skirt hugs her hips. Gwen, he decides when he sees her answer the phone with a smile.

 

Which makes the other woman, the one standing and leaning over somebody else's desk, Morgana. She's exactly what he pictured – tall and pale, her makeup dark and perfectly done, her dark grey pinstriped suit immaculately pressed, the silver jewellery polished. She waves her hands around when she speaks and flips her silky-looking hair over her shoulder and impatiently clicks her high stiletto heels on the floor when the man she's speaking to says something she doesn't like. Merlin is both attracted to her and slightly intimidated by her (which, really, only goes back to making him more attracted to her).

 

There's only one other black person in the room, a guy sitting all the way on the other end of the office, and he must be Gwen's brother, Elyan, the straight one. Merlin hides a smile behind his hand as he takes a seat at the computer. He can't see Elyan clearly from there, just the top of his head, his dark hair cut short.

 

The others are not as easy to figure out. The man Morgana is speaking to is blond which could make him _goldylocks_ , but he looks nothing like Morgana and Merlin knows _goldylocks_ and Morgana are siblings. There's a tall, lean man with longer, curly hair sitting on Gwen's side who looks a little more like he could be Morgana's brother and could also be _goldylocks_ , though Merlin would call him ginger rather than blond. The rest of them don't appear to have any physical qualities that he can connect to their nicknames. A large, muscular man across from Gwen is sneaking peanuts from his pocket to his mouth, so he could be _baron_munchies_ , but if he is, he looks absolutely nothing like what Merlin imagined. An attractive, long-haired, bearded man further to the back of the room is making a dissatisfied face at his computer screen while waving his hand at the young, light-eyed, curly-haired guy next to him to shut up; Merlin wonders if he could be _cynical-terror_.

 

“Excuse me, how long will this take?” Mr. Gaius asks him, tapping his shoulder.

 

“Um.” Merlin clears his throat, dragging his eyes away from the group of his virtual would-be friends standing before him in the flesh for the first time. “If everything goes smoothly, not very long, but you might want to go grab some coffee,” he gathers himself enough to reply.

 

“Coffee, really!” Mr. Gaius snorts as he slowly walks away. “Like a man my age could drink coffee. Tea, my boy, tea is what you want!”

 

Merlin laughs quietly to himself. Before he focuses solely on the task before him, he sneaks one last look at the legal department. It's weird how these people have become such a huge part of his life and this is only the first time he's ever seen them.

 

~*~

 

Three weeks pass from the day Merlin first sends a message to someone in the legal department before he has to do it again. It's _baron_munchies_ again, and this time he sends four identical e-mails in under an hour, almost like he's _trying_ to get Merlin's attention. The e-mails are subjectless and addressed to _Prince Arthur (arthur.u.pendragon@yahoo.com)_ which confuses Merlin for a second because Arthur U. Pendragon is the son of the very Uther Pendragon who owns _Pendragon Inc._ and Arthur U. Pendragon works _in_ the legal department and _goldylocks_ is logged in to the group chat. So naturally, Merlin has to check the suspicious activity (he convinces himself it's his job requirement, but in all honesty, he just _wants_ to know, and he has a perfect excuse). The e-mail is vaguely sexual, though not explicitly so, referring to something that happened, apparently between _baron_munchies_ and _goldylocks_ ( _literally everyone here has slept with Gwaine_ , Merlin remembers _cynical-terror_ saying), not so long ago. If Merlin wasn't _expecting_ a sex-themed e-mail, it's possible he would've read it without noticing any such undertones. Briefly he wonders if he really is making it up by looking too much into it, but there's something about the wording and the tone that gives it away; one doesn't simply tell someone else _I still remember how the table felt under my hands_ without it being sexual. _baron_munchies_ ' case is not helped by the reply that comes to his e-mails – _wtf is wrong with you today_.

 

Merlin digs up the message he sent to _baron_munchies_ some time ago, copies it, changes the e-mail address and sends it again. Once more, he doesn't get a reply, but this time nothing is mentioned on the chat either.

 

Six days later, there's another string of four e-mails in quick succession going from _baron_munchies_ to _lady_m_. These are a little more overtly sexual, but still not as explicit as the original batch from a month before that. Morgana doesn't even dignify them with a response, but Merlin dutifully sends the previously saved message once more.

 

Four days after that, _goldylocks_ sends three especially crude lines to Morgana. She only replies with _that's not how straight sex works, arthur_. Merlin laughs out loud, considers turning a blind eye to the entire thing happening just for that comment, but in the end sends a warning to _goldylocks_ anyway.

 

It's only two days later that both _baron_munchies_ and _obligatoryblackguy_ send rather raunchy e-mails to Gwen and someone named Lisbeth, respectively. This time, there's a reaction on the chat.

 

 _gwennn_ : Okay, what on Earth is going on?

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : go w/ it pls

 _lady_m_ : don't even ask

 _lady_m_ : and especially don't go with it

 _baron_munchies_ : def go with itt

 _goldylocks_ : they're trying to make the tech guy monitoring us uncomfortale, gwen

 _goldylocks_ : *uncomfortable

 _sir_lance_ : Wait, what

 _gwennn_ : Should've known.

 _gwennn_ : Why, if I may ask?

 _baron_munchies_ : because its fun

 _goldylocks_ : because i wanna know how much it's gonna take for him to change the fucking message

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : bc its fun

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : oh ffs

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : istg my computer is slower than everybody elses

 _cynical-terror_ : YOU're slower that everybody else

 _percy_jacks_ : you set him up for that one

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : oh ha bloody ha

 _baron_munchies_ : call tech support

 _baron_munchies_ : maybe tech_support_m will come and we can finally put a face to the name

 _baron_munchies_ : or a name to the name lbr

 _goldylocks_ : i bet he's some pimply socially awkward kid

 _gwennn_ : How do you know we haven't already met him?

 _goldylocks_ : works from home

 _lady_m_ : works from home

 _lady_m_ : oh

 _sir_lance_ : Wait, how do you know he's not monitoring the chat

 _goldylocks_ : would you

 _cynical-terror_ : yes

 _baron_munchies_ : duhhhh

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : ofc

 _goodytwoshoes_ : wow why am i friends with you all someone remind me

 

Merlin crosses his arms over his chest with a _hmph_. “Fine,” he says to no one in particular as he opens a private message for both _baron_munchies_ and _obligatoryblackguy_ and writes _Listen here you pricks, you might think you're funny but your boss won't._ He only signs it with _-M,_ not the username. There's a chance they'll think him seriously annoyed and not simply amused and maybe a little hopefully interactive, there's even a chance they'll report _him_ (though he doesn't honestly think that, and not in the least because they'd be reporting themselves at the same time), but he thinks they'll probably just find it funny. Well, he _hopes_. He hesitates before sending anyway. He looks at the message again. “Oh, fuck it,” he eventually sighs and hits send. There are a few seconds of panic when he wishes that he hadn't, and then a few seconds of disbelief that this actually _matters_ to him so much and then the chat comes to life.

 

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : whoa i think we pissed him off

 

Merlin's heart drops.

 

 _baron_munchies_ : bitch puh-lease

 _baron_munchies_ : if he was gonna report us hedve done it ages ago

 _baron_munchies_ : operation get a reaction out of the tech support kid

 _baron_munchies_ : going according to plan

 

Merlin smiles stupidly at his screen.

  
 

~*~

 

 

 

The very next day, _baron_munchies_ , _obligatoryblackguy, goldylocks,_ _cynical-terror_ and even _goodytwoshoes_ all send e-mails to Morgana, all of them qualifying for an R rating. Merlin is about to send them all the same message he sent out yesterday, just to make sure they all get that it's a joke, when his software pings again, letting him know Morgana, whom everybody seems to have fully expected to ignore the messages, is replying to e-mails. He closes the private messages and goes to read Morgana's mail. It's an extremely explicit and detailed (true or not, Merlin can't guess) description of a wild night between herself and Gwen. Immediately, the chat lights up like crazy.

 

 _goldylocks_ : omg why

 _goldylocks_ : burn my eyes please

 _goodytwoshoes_ : oh dear

 _goldylocks_ : wash my brain

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : I DID NOT NEDE TO IMAIGNE TAHT

 _goldylocks_ : bleach for my brain

 _cynical-terror_ : ahahahahahahahahahaha

 _baron_munchies_ : this is the best reaction to anything ever

 _baron_munchies_ : maybe i shouldve een trying to get yall to react all along

 _gwennn_ : What happened?

 _lady_m_ : they all thought they could send me whatever they wanted

 _lady_m_ : so i started playing their own game

 _obligatoryblackguy_ : why would u do that

 _lady_m_ : ~because it's fun~

 

Merlin is laughing so hard he can't even be assed to send a proper notification so he just quickly types out _you were asking for it_ and sends it as a group message to all five guys.

 

 _baron_munchies_ : that little shit is enjoying himself

 

Merlin just laughs harder.

 

And that's how it begins. After that, he has to send out at least one message to each member of the legal department every day. He drops all pretence of professionalism and eventually starts reviewing their messages as short stories. Gwaine seems especially amused by this.

 

~*~

 

“ _We're alive.”_

 

“ _Her hair glows!”_

 

“That guy's got priorities,” Freya says around a mouthful of popcorn.

 

“You literally say that every time,” Merlin laughs.

 

“And it's true every time.”

 

Merlin slides further down on the floor and leans his head against Freya's knee. “Kinda weird Will isn’t here to try to convince us that he's a real life version of Flynn.”

 

“Yeah, he said he'd try to come,” Freya says absently, miming the motion of wrapping something around her hand at the same time as Rapunzel wraps her hair over Flynn's wound. “But he's going out again tonight, so...”

 

“But it's Sunday, even Will doesn't go out on Sunday.” Merlin looks up at Freya's face, eerily blueish in the artificial light of the TV screen. “What's gotten into him lately?”

 

She sighs and pauses the movie. “I think I may have... offended him with that whole comment about how our lives are actually pathetic and we're just in denial because we're 'having fun' and going out and stuff.”

 

Merlin frowns. He remembers the conversation at the club, the one where Freya said out loud exactly how he had been feeling, how happy he was in the moment but how terrible it was to think about it in the context of his life. “But that was a lifetime ago!” he says.

 

“No, no,” Freya quickly stops him, waving a hand, “he brought it up, like, last week, or the week before, when we were out for coffee.” Merlin thinks he knows the day Freya is talking about; she'd called to invite him as well, but he was in the middle of reading a lengthy fantasy story about _baron_munchies_ with two dicks and, well, he said no, he said he had to work. “I think he's proving a point or something,” Freya adds, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but Merlin can see she's upset Will is not there for their weekly ritual of getting together and re-watching _Disney_ movies they could act out themselves. “You know how he is, he'll get over it soon enough,” she says with an air of finality and lets the movie play. Merlin decides to drop the subject, at least for now. “How's work been?” she asks suddenly.

 

“Oh! You know, same old,” Merlin replies, hoping Freya will be too immersed in the movie to notice the way his voice rises a little. Of course, all hope is gone when she pauses the movie again.

 

“Merlin,” she says, obviously trying to sound stern; she ruins it with a giggle. “What did you do?”

 

Merlin pulls his knees up and hides behind them. “I may have been... _condoning_ inappropriate behaviour for fun.”

 

Freya pokes at his shoulder. “What kind of inappropriate behaviour?”

 

“NC-17 rated messages?”

 

“Merlin! That could get you fired!” She pauses for a second, then asks uncertainly, “Right?”

 

“Well, technically. But someone would have to report it, and there's no one who knows about it who can say anything without incriminating themselves!”

 

Freya laughs. “Incriminating?”

 

“Shut up, they're lawyers,” Merlin mumbles. “They wouldn't do it anyway. They're like... Freya, they're like my friends,” he says and although it's how he feels, he immediately thinks it sounds both stupid and dishonest. What he's doing with the legal department at _Pendragon Inc._ is fun and interesting, but it's not a friendship. He rubs at the back of his neck.

 

“Did you notice that you've started referring to them by their real names?” Freya asks, seemingly blind to Merlin's sudden discomfort. And no, Merlin hasn't. Then, “How do you communicate with them?”

 

“E-mail. They send private e-mails using the company-provided wifi and I read them.”

 

Freya waits a beat too long before asking, “Like, their _private_ private e-mails? How?”

 

And if Merlin had been uncomfortable before, he's now hoping for a meteor to hit so he can get out of this conversation. He's always been aware that what he's been doing is skirting the line of _moral_ and potentially even legal, but it's the mild chastising tone in Freya's voice that really brings it home.

 

“I can see their screens, control their software remotely. And they're not supposed to send private e-mails during work hours,” he tries, though the excuse sounds pathetic even to his ears. “It's my _job_ to... It's my job to stop them,” he finishes. Which, he has to admit now, doesn't necessary include _reading_ their e-mails. “They know I'm doing it!” he adds, almost desperately.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” Freya sighs, putting a gentle hand on the top of his head. “I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds,” she says comfortingly, but Merlin himself is not really sure that's true. “And I guess, if they don't mind, it's okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, unconvinced. The few seconds of silence between them feel odd and oppressive.

 

Freya kicks at Merlin's foot. “Come on, let's watch cartoons and pretend the outside world doesn't exist and our problems will go away on their own.” She lets Rapunzel's mother continue to manipulate everyone around her.

 

~*~

 

Merlin adds Shaftesbury's _Advanced Magnetism_ to his cart on _Amazon,_ holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “Can't, some of my textbooks arrived this morning, I wanna go through them,” he says, after a short pause. It's not that he doesn't _want_ to go out per se, in fact, he hasn't been out with Will in almost three weeks, probably the longest time they hadn't gone out since they met, but he's trying to get his shit together and part of that is learning some self-control.

 

“You're no fun when you're being responsible,” Will whines.

 

“What can I say, some of us have things to do.”

 

“Hey, don't get all high and mighty with me,” Will laughs. Merlin knows he's not actually offended. “Call me if you change your mind?”

 

“Mmm—” Merlin starts replying, then sees the pop-up bubble notifying him that _baron_munchies_ is reading an e-mail on his private address. “Whoa,” he breathes into the phone when he sees the subject line. It reads _for_ _tech_support_m_.

 

“Merlin?” Will asks.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here,” Merlin murmurs absently, his heart beating fast as his cursor runs over the subject line. He hovers over the little red x on the bubble. He's been so _good_ , not opening any e-mails, even when an unusual number of them went out unusually quickly; sending professional-sounding messages of warning; (mostly) ignoring the chats – but _this_ , this is new and he can't just ignore this, and this is not just trying to get his attention, this is _for_ him and he's clicking on the link faster than he can pronounce his own name.

 

His palms are damp and his heart is beating so hard he can almost hear it. It's like a good hit after being clean for a while, like getting high again after weeks of abstinence, like an orgasm after hours of denial. He drums his fingers against the smooth surface of the kitchen table as _Gmail_ loads slowly. He is so focused on his screen that he almost jumps out of his skin when he hears Will's voice in his ear.

 

“You okay over there?”

 

“Huh? Yeah, I'm fine,” he lies quickly.

 

“You sound a little winded,” Will says, and now it sounds like a tease.

 

Merlin snorts. “It's not what you think,” he says, knowing exactly where Will's filthy mind went.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“I got an e-mail I wasn't expecting,” Merlin gives away after a short struggle – one way or another, Will always finds a way to figure it out, so Merlin might as well volunteer the information; at least that way he gets some control over what Will knows.

 

“Someone from the legal department?”

 

Merlin chokes on his own tongue. “How do you know about them?”

 

“Spoke to Freya. Well, is it?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I do hope, in the name of everything I've ever taught you, that you're participating in these x-rated exchanges,” Will says and Merlin can practically hear the grin in his face and no wonder Will always has endless teasing ammo; he's gonna have to talk to Freya about this. The _Gmail_ page has now loaded and the bold letters spelling his username stare back at Merlin when he looks at them.

 

“I'm working,” Merlin replies belatedly.

 

“So? They are too.”

 

“I can't send them fucking porn in messages that virtually anyone with enough clearance at  _Pendragon_  can see!”

 

“Oh, please,” Will laughs, unimpressed. “You obviously know their e-mail addresses. And if you don't, you of all people certainly have ways of finding out.”

 

“You and Freya seem to have the wrong impression of me as a master hacker,” Merlin says, finally clicking on the e-mail Gwaine seems to have sent to himself from another address. “Look, I've gotta go,” he tells Will. He's already hanging up when he hears Will yelling, “It'd better be because you're writing highly improbable porn to some hot lawyer!”

 

Merlin rolls his eyes at his phone as he pushes it to the side. He runs his hands over his jeans to dry them and scrolls down to read the e-mail.

 

_Dear dude whose name I don't know but who has great taste in written porn,_

 

 _I didn't know your name so I'm addressing this e-mail to your many and varied nicknames. We've been missing you here at lawyers assembled and to be honest we are quite hurt that you would ignore our carefully written (non)fiction that we spend a lot of time working on. You'll notice we've taken into account your reviews of our previous works and tried to incorporate your advice in our writing. It is weird not getting our work inboxes littered with highly work-inappropriate talk that we've become used to._ ~~_in other words, for fuck's sake we're bored as all hell and are not above begging_ ~~

 

_You, young man, have been very rude. Very rude indeed. In fact I personally believe you deserve a spanking. Perhaps I should force you to your hands and knees and bring a paddle to your ass. Or would you prefer my hands? I'll have you know, I have very talented hands. Of course, you wouldn't get to have proof of that until your ass was burning and your cock leaking and until I've heard you beg me for more._

 

_Or maybe I would tie you to the bed, legs and arms spread, blindfold you and gag you and play with you until you go crazy because the only thing you know is my touch. I'd take good care of you and you would love me and hate me and curse me and praise me and you would never get enough. And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, I'd fuck you until you passed out._

 

_And just maybe, if I was feeling particularly magnanimous, I'd have you on your knees, hands tied behind your back, sucking me until you choked on it and then I'd fuck your face like I didn't even care that you couldn't breathe._

 

_And then maybe you'd learn not to be so rude._

 

_Sincerely, Gwaine_

 

~~_ps: seriously tho come back we really ARE bored_ ~~

 

Merlin thumps his head on the table in front of him. “God almighty,” he whispers to his knees, squirming in the chair to try to adjust his jeans so the zipper is not pressing quite so harshly against his erection. He stays like that for a few minutes, vivid images playing on the back of his eyelids: him on his knees, spit dripping down his chin, his lips stretched around a thick cock, on all fours, leaning into the hand slapping against his already hurting backside, on a bed, blind and mute and immobile and hands moving over his body, carefully avoiding all the places he wants them to go to.

 

The image of the other person in his fantasies is not clear; Merlin tries to see the big guy who was eating peanuts the one time Merlin saw him, but somehow it doesn't fit and his mind helpfully supplies him with the thought of that kid with curly hair, probably closest in age to Merlin, who looks somehow cold and distant and yes, he fits in better. Merlin looks back up at the screen and whines, the sound distorted by the hand he scrubs over his face. He presses the heel of his palm harshly against his crotch before opening his own personal e-mail in a new tab.

 

He addresses the e-mail to gwaine.mcintyre@gmail.com, leaves the subject line blank and clicks on the body. He watches the blinking line, thinking. He knows there's no going back from this; there's no way he can even try to ignore the legal department's shenanigans after this, no way he can write this off as someone trying to stir up a mess for the sake of having fun because this is more personal now. And if he sends an e-mail in response, if he gives them his name and his contact information, everything shifts, becomes more friendly and less about work, and maybe Merlin can call them by their names and not feel weird and maybe they can go out together and maybe he can become more of an active part of their lives and less a shadow observing them from afar. But it also means that they get to meet him and Merlin, Merlin doesn't do commitment very well and he doesn't do making new friends very well at all.

 

_Merlin. That's my name, Merlin._

 

He stops typing. He's almost about to send it when he pauses to reconsider. He doesn't have much to lose really, and this is what he's wanted all long but now that it's finally here, he's not so sure anymore. What if they're not what he expects? What if he's not what they expect? What if they just don't click?

 

He looks back at the e-mail that's still open, skims through the lines again and wonders what Gwaine was imagining as he wrote them. He licks his lips and quickly adds a post scriptum to his message.

 

_Ps: You wouldn't get to do any of those before I taught you your place – on your knees and at my feet._

 

He clicks send before he can change his mind, the tips of his ears burning and his heart beating fast. It's too late to take it back now; it's both exciting and terrifying. He wonders why he always spends so much time weighing his options and talking himself into doing things then out of it and back around, when virtually every decision he's made ever since he can remember was a product of throwing his arms up in the air and thinking _fuck it._

 

~*~

 

Merlin holds his messenger bag tightly to his hip as he presses the shiny round button with the number 7 in the elevator. He tries to stay calm, but he can't stop grinning at his own distorted expression in the elevator door.

 

When his phone rang at dawn that morning (okay, maybe it was closer to midday), he was fully prepared to curse Will to high heavens and ask him how he could possibly get so drunk that he forgot things that happened _before he got drunk_. Thankfully, Merlin saw the caller ID before he started screaming bloody murder, and, recognizing the _Pendragon Inc_. reception, answered as politely as he could, given that he'd just been woken up. A bored-sounding secretary told him he needed to come over as soon as he could over some software problems. Merlin was still half-asleep, but he had the presence of mind to gently remind the woman that there were three people working in tech support _in the fucking building_ and that they were _perhaps_ a better choice. She only sounded mildly peeved when she tersely informed him that the legal department was asking for him _specifically_. Merlin was already out of bed when she hung up on him.

 

His mouth is getting dryer by the second as he watches the red numbers above the door change. When the elevator stops at the sixth floor and a middle-aged balding guy stepps in, Merlin almost groans out loud. He forces his muscles to relax and tries to look casual despite feeling simultaneously like he is being taken to the guillotine and like he is about to be handed his dream on a silver platter.

 

Even though almost everyone from the legal department has been sending him e-mails regularly since he shared his address with Gwaine almost two whole weeks ago, this will be the first time they are all meeting face to face, the first time they shake hands and the first time Merlin finally connects all the nicknames to their rightful users. He takes a deep breath as he steps out of the elevator on the seventh floor. He immediately heads for the large glass door, only waving over his shoulder when Mr. Gaius yells a hello after him.

 

The metal doorknob feels ice-cold against his warm skin and Merlin has to look at the floor when he pushes the door open and steps into the office for the first time; he thinks that if he watches all of them and sees their reactions to him, he might pass out from excitement. He doesn't remember ever being this excited about _meeting_ people in his entire life.

 

He must have been standing there longer than he thought because he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft female voice almost whispers “Merlin?” in his ear. He looks up and sees Gwen standing next to him. She's smiling kindly and, if Merlin is not sorely mistaken, already fondly, her touch grounding Merlin and her eyes calming him. “I'm Gwen,” she says, extending her hand. He shakes it and gurgles something that was supposed to be his name.

 

“Ugh, Merlin,” he tries again.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, squeezing his shoulder gently.

 

“Yeah, finally,” someone else says on Merlin's other side. Merlin turns and finds himself face to face with the blond man he saw Morgana talking to. He looks strong and his well-tailored suit gives off an undeniable sense of authority; he would be intimidating if Merlin didn't have an immediate gut instinct to counter him on everything. When Morgana stands next to him, though, Merlin knows immediately that the man is Arthur; they don't look alike, no, they're as different as night and day, but there's something in their posture that is more than purely coincidentally similar. “I'm Arthur, and this is my _beloved_ sister—“

 

“Morgana,” Merlin finishes, the instinct to challenge Arthur's power kicking in.

 

“Behave, Arthur,” Morgana coos, a little patronizingly, patting Arthur's arm.

 

“That over there is _my_ brother,” Gwen says, pointing at Elyan in the back of the room. Elyan has his headset on and he's talking animatedly in what sounds like Italian, he doesn't even seem to notice anything happening around him. Merlin nods a little impatiently, these are all identifications he's already made himself. “Those are Leon and Lance,” she carries on, looking over her shoulder at the two men whose desks are next to hers, both of them furiously typing on their keyboards; they wave when they hear their names and Lance gives Merlin a smile that makes Merlin melt on the spot – _sir_ indeed.

 

A tap on the shoulder makes Merlin turn around. A big, warm hand grabs his and shakes it. “Percy,” says the large man in front of him. Merlin feels appropriately proud for guessing this man wasn't Gwaine. And that only leaves two men – the steely-eyed young guy sitting at his desk and the bearded man leaning casually against his own. As soon as their eyes meet, Merlin suddenly just knows.

 

“Hey, there,” the kid waves first, “Mordred.”

 

“Gwaine,” Gwaine says with a lopsided grin. Merlin's head swims with all the attention but it's Gwaine's voice and his eyes, looking at Merlin like he's imagining exactly the things that are going trough Merlin's mind, that really make Merlin light-headed. He expects Gwaine to step forward, shake hands with him, he _wants_ that, but Gwaine just walks around his desk and sits at his computer.

 

Suddenly completely at a loss, Merlin looks around, a little panicked. He's not used to so many new people, all looking at him, and he's not sure what to do next. It appears he's not the only one though, as Arthur looks to the floor and Gwen shifts from one foot to the other; it makes him feel a little better, safety in numbers and all.

 

And then Morgana flicks his ear, says, “You're younger than I thought.”

 

Arthur groans. “Don't worry, she's always that wonderfully charming.”

 

“Don't worry, Arthur's always that stuck-up,” Mordred throws in.

 

“Mordred's always that much of a downer,” Percy laughs behind Merlin.

 

“We could go on like this forever,” Gwaine says.

 

“Of course, Gwaine wouldn't want us to go on forever because we'd end up talking about _him_ the entire time,” Morgana says sweetly, winking at Gwaine.

 

“Pfft, yeah, about how awesome I am,” Gwaine replies with an easy smile.

 

“Ha! You wish!”

 

Merlin chuckles with the rest of them. It's like one of their chats has come to life and this time Merlin is there not only to witness it, but also to participate. “And for once, I'm not the butt of every joke,” he says.

 

“Ooh, you just wait,” Mordred laughs, shaking his head like he thinks Merlin has no idea what he's summoning. And just like that Merlin fits into their group without a ripple. The next breath he takes feels as if it fills him up like a balloon, he thinks he might fly away with how light he is.

 

“It's my computer,” Gwaine says, waving Merlin over. Merlin raises both his eyebrows, confused for a second. “You're here to fix it, aren't you?” Gwaine asks teasingly.

 

“Oh, right.”

 

“Don't let him seduce you, it's not worth it,” Lance advises, his smooth voice washing over Merlin for the first time.

 

“It's totally worth it,” Arthur mumbles in Merlin's ear. Merlin almost giggles, but he doesn't think Arthur's comment was supposed to be broadcast to the entire room, so he covers his laugh with a cough.

 

Gwaine's desk is a total mess, documents strewn all over, one drawer not entirely closed. Merlin expects Gwaine to turn his screen so that Merlin can see it, but Gwaine doesn't. He only leans back in his chair, waves a hand to invite Merlin to lean in. Merlin looks to the side with a quiet snort. Gwaine's behavior suddenly makes sense. Merlin's played the same move countless times before, having waiters and waitresses lean over to take empty glasses or pretending he didn't understand something so a hot teacher would lean over his shoulder. It's a blatantly flirtatious gesture and Merlin can't quite decide if he's disappointed Gwaine is not trying harder or if he appreciates the direct approach. He gives Gwaine a sly smile as he indulges him and leans over, invading his personal space. He doesn't react to the pleasantly fresh smell of Gwaine's cologne or to the warmth coming from his body, but he does make sure to arch his back a little more than necessary and brush his knee over Gwaine's thigh. He thinks Will would be proud of him.

 

Just a cursory look at Gwaine's system tells him there's nothing seriously wrong with it. Merlin can't help but laugh, his head falling between his shoulders.

 

“There is _nothing_ wrong with your computer,” he says, looking at Gwaine over his shoulder.

 

Gwaine sits up in his chair and leans closer. “Are you sure? It's really slow.”

 

“Of course it is,” Merlin replies ironically. “Did you seriously drag me out of bed for this?”

 

Gwaine shrugs innocently. He leans in further, his long hair tickling over Merlin's cheek. “I'll be happy to put you back into it,” he says.

 

Merlin's eyes widen when they meet Gwaine's, so little space left between them now that Merlin can see the little lines of lighter golden brown in Gwaine's dark eyes. Neither of them reacts for a second, Merlin too torn between shock and arousal, and Gwaine, well, god knows what's going through Gwaine's head – but the tension breaks when they both laugh at the same time, Merlin standing up and Gwaine leaning back into the chair.

 

“Is Gwaine already pulling the moves on him?” Merlin hears an unfamiliar voice (Elyan's, he realizes immediately) from the back of the room say.

 

“Has Merlin been in the room for more than 10 seconds?” Morgana asks flatly, not looking away from her screen. Merlin gasps for air, pressing a hand to his stomach and looks at Gwaine who just winks at him and gives him a grin that reveals perfectly white teeth.

 

~*~

 

Sometimes, Merlin spares a thought for all the porn he will now never be able to properly enjoy thanks to all the xxx messages cluttering his e-mail. Some are just lazily impossible (usually Leon's, Merlin is quite honestly starting to wonder if Leon has ever even had sex or if he's just not even trying), some are toeing the line of simply disgusting (mostly Arthur's, Percy's and Elyan's but Merlin is pretty sure disgusting is what they're going for so it's okay), some are downright creepy (Mordred's, _always_ Mordred's), some are sweet and gentle and romance more than porn (Gwen and Lance, about each other too, for all that Merlin can tell, and if Merlin hadn't met Lance he would never believe a man wrote them, sexist as it may sound) and then there are those that are surprisingly _good_ (Merlin doesn't even want to know how Morgana learned to write porn so well), but whatever is mentioned in any of those, Merlin can never see the same way again. With time, the frequency and quantity of the e-mails drops, like it's no fun anymore now that they know Merlin and text him and talk to him and have him on Facebook and go out with him. Eventually it comes to it that he only gets an occasional e-mail from a particularly inspired Arthur or Mordred.

 

And then there's Gwaine. Gwaine continues to send his e-mails daily. Merlin's heart skips a beat every time he opens one of them and having at least a semi-hard on while he's reading them becomes a perfectly normal occurrence. Gwaine's messages read more like memories and fantasies than like stories, Gwaine's phrasing comes off more personal and intimate. Merlin imagines that Gwaine talks dirty in bed, and sometimes he can't resist but imagine Gwaine talking dirty _to_ _him_.

 

So one morning, when Merlin wakes up from a particularly pleasant dream with a raging hard-on, the first thing he does is sleepily rummage through his nightstand to find the small, half-empty bottle of lube. The second thing he does is to pull out his laptop from under his pillow and start it up. It only has 30% battery left, but it'll last long enough.

 

Merlin logs in to his e-mail, ignores the _Pendragon_ newsletter and an e-mail from Will, opening instead the mail Gwaine sent earlier that morning. Like always, there's no subject line and the message is not addressed to anyone in particular. Merlin feels giddy as he denies himself the pleasure of skimming the e-mail, squeezing instead a generous amount of lube onto his hand. He doesn't bother to warm it up, squirms around until his briefs are around his thighs and wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing when the cool gel meets his heated flesh. He runs his hand up and down slowly, spreading the lube evenly everywhere; it's just a mechanic move, purposeful and inelegant, but it feels good enough that Merlin closes his eyes and for a while just enjoys slowly touching himself. On an upwards stroke, he makes a tight ring of his thumb and forefinger, squeezes just under the head, before letting his thumb run over it. He licks his lips and lets his mouth fall open over the next inhale.

 

He's still lazily stroking himself when he turns his head so he can see the laptop screen. It's gone dark so he touches the touchpad with his free hand and watches the screen come back to life.

 

 _You're asleep in your bed_ , the first sentence of the e-mail says. Merlin laughs breathlessly, his hand already speeding up. _It's late when I come back and I'm a little drunk. I see you through the open the door, the only light coming from the hallway._ Merlin squeezes the base of his cock impatiently, but the e-mail seems to be one of the longer ones. _I stand in the door, watching you. You're naked, I know, and the only thing hiding you from my eyes is a thin sheet rumpled around your waist. I take off my shoes and my clothes and leave them where they fall as I get closer to you. You make a sleepy noise and stir, but you don't wake up. Slowly, I climb into bed next to you._

 

Merlin hums, pleased at the way the things are progressing. He touches the tips of his fingers to the underside of the head, presses down until it's almost painful, reading on. _Your skin is warm where I touch it and I want to get to more of it, so I kick the sheet away and run a hand down your back. Even in your sleep, you recognize the touch and lean into it._ Merlin's own hand trails down between his legs, cupping his balls and gently, rhythmically pressing down behind them. There are no names in Gwaine's messages and the pronouns he uses are the generic _you_ and _I_ and Merlin knows that this is not necessarily directed at him and he knows that Gwaine may well have been imagining one of their mutual friends (and the fact that he can call them that now always makes him smile) while writing, but in Merlin's mind, it's him and it's Gwaine and it's Merlin's messy, barely furnished apartment and Gwaine's rough hands on Merlin's sleep-fevered skin and Merlin moans. One of his fingers trails further down, touching over the crease of his ass, stroking around the hole uncertainly, like he himself can't decide what to do. He lifts his hips off the bed to give himself enough access to just press in, but he doesn't have the patience for more, and quickly goes back to stroking his cock, pre-come now mixing with the lube, his grip slipping.

 

_You smell of sweat and sex and I know you haven't showered since I left you here a few hours ago, still breathing heavily, stretching lazily on the sheets that we ruined. My fingers find their way between your cheeks and you're still wet, still open; I slip two fingers inside you easily, find my own come in there. You turn to lie on your stomach, sigh into the pillow and go on sleeping. I'm gentle and slow because I don't want you to wake up, but the truth is that if I could, I'd just shove my cock inside you and fuck you like we're animals. I pull my fingers out to look at them, covered in come that I smear around your hole. Your body is reacting to the touch, but your eyes stay closed. I climb on top of you, rubbing myself on your ass, my face in the crook of your neck._

 

Merlin bends his legs at the knees and lets them fall open, just the position itself turning him on further. He focuses at the top of his cock, strokes fast and grip tight, then counteracts it with long, slow, loose-gripped strokes over his full length. He's breathing heavily and the idea of having Gwaine's face pressed to the sensitive skin on his neck, Gwaine's beard scratching at him, the thought of that feeling being so familiar he doesn't even wake up, it makes his head roll back and he moans.

 

_I use my come and spit to slick up, it would be nowhere near enough if you weren't already fucked open, if your body wasn't pliant and accepting under me, if you weren't so ready. But you are and my cock goes inside you easily, all the way; you make a pleased sound into the pillow and your hips move, as if inviting me. I fuck you slowly, breathing against your skin. You're so warm and soft in my arms, my rhythm is so steady and I start to drift off myself, consciousness slipping away. You squirm under me and I fear you're waking up, so I stop, but then I notice you're just rubbing yourself against the sheets. I hold your hips steady and deny you the pleasure._

 

Merlin groans like it's really happening and fucks up into his own hand just to prove that it's not. He scrolls down so he can see the rest of the e-mail – not much left now, and brings his now free hand to his chest where he pinches both of his nipples. He can see the top of the letter G where Gwaine signed the e-mail and he buries his heated face sideways into the pillow when he thinks about what Gwaine would say if he knew what Merlin was doing. He imagines Gwaine would crawl between his spread legs and help him and the idea sends a shiver down his spine. His hips lift restlessly off the bed and he starts steadily fucking into his fist as it pumps faster.

 

_I fuck you faster, harder, rougher. You're still asleep, your face pressed into the pillow and the sounds you are making muffled. I fuck you the way I want to, because it doesn't matter what you want right now. I move one hand to the back of your neck and press down until I can hear that you're hardly breathing and then I let go. Your cheeks are red and your lips wet. I push a finger into your mouth and you don't react. The bed moves with me as I fuck you. You sleep like nothing is happening, like you can't even feel it or like you can't even react. I press my forehead to the back of your neck as I come inside you again._

 

Merlin is just about to come himself, his hand furiously stripping his cock, his wrist twisting as he palms the head every now and then, but there's one more paragraph in the e-mail and Merlin can't, _won't_ come until he's imagined everything Gwaine wanted him to imagine.

 

_When I pull out, I spread your cheeks to see you. Your hole is red and it stretches easily when I hold you open. I push my thumb in and spread it open enough that some come leaks out. I follow it as it runs down your cleft and over your balls. I lick it away before it can drip onto the sheets. I hold you open as I shove my tongue inside you, you push into the bed but you don't come, and I lick at your insides, cleaning you. I taste my own come, bitter and salty and thick as I swallow it, my lips and my teeth press against your raw skin and you make a choked sob but I don't stop. I don't stop until you're clean and shaking and then I move away. I crawl over your body and lie, half on top of you and I go to sleep. You're sweaty and warm and turned on and still asleep, and come morning you won't even know this happened._

 

Merlin bites at his pillowcase and curses between his teeth as he comes on his stomach and chest in long pulses. He can't stop stroking himself even after he's done, he keeps touching himself as he stares at the last line, until he's going soft in his own hand and it hurts and he has to stop. He lies on his back, his laptop turning off as the battery runs out. He pants and stares at the ceiling, his arms unnaturally straight on either side of his body.

 

It's only later, as he's making himself toast for breakfast that he has the presence of mind to think and be mildly creeped out by the images Gwaine comes up with and mildly worried that they turn him on. “What am I doing with my life?” he solemnly asks the butter he's smearing on the thin slice of bread. It doesn't answer.

 

~*~

 

They're on their third pitcher of beer when Merlin remembers to ask, “Hey, how did you all come up with your usernames? 'Cause they don't really... I mean, I can't really see Arthur choosing _goldylocks_ for himself.”

 

Everyone laughs and Arthur rolls his eyes. If this had happened the first time they'd gone out, Merlin would be feeling really awkward right about now, like a person observing an inside joke and not getting it. It still sometimes strikes him as weird how well he knows these people, but at the same time, how little he knows _about_ them. While at first that brought him discomfort, now he just tries to learn more. To be fair, the first few times he was probably a bit too nervous and shy to ask them anyway, a little too worried that he might screw up without there being a safety net of him never wanting to see these people again anyway. But right from the start they've treated him like they treat each other, like he's always been there; they tease and they joke around and they ask about his day and they invite him out and curse at him to bring food. Merlin is only too happy to skip the awkward initial phases of friendship where he has to wonder if a joke is appropriate before he says it, and jump right into the end phase where they all sit too close and insult each other for fun.

 

“Why does everyone mention _my_ name?” Arthur groans.

 

Morgana pats Leon's knee, giving him a conspirational look. “It's a classic.”

 

“We put all our names in a hat and pulled each other out at random and then made usernames for whoever we got,” Lance helpfully provides on Merlin's left.

 

“Still not entirely convinced Morgana didn't rig the whole thing somehow,” Arthur grumbles.

 

Morgana shrugs, neither denying nor confirming. “I picked Gwen's and she picked mine,” she tells Merlin.

 

“I did Lance,” Gwaine says, then takes a sip of his beer.

 

“He also picked his username,” Elyan jokes, making Lance cough into his glass. Gwaine grins like that reaction was exactly what he wanted. “I picked Percy's and Mordred did mine.”

 

“And Percy mine,” Mordred supplies.

 

“Lance mine,” Leon says. “Must say, I'm surprised he didn't just go with my name.”

 

“Aww, he tried to be mean,” Percy coos, ruffling Lance's hair. Lance pushes him away, his shoulder bumping into Merlin's as he does. Merlin enjoys the easy contact.

 

“So, Leon picked _goldylocks_?” Merlin asks and Morgana confirms with a nod.

 

“Arthur had long hair as a kid, I always made him play Goldilocks when we played.”

 

“You mean, when you tortured me.”

 

“You know Goldilocks is spelled with an I, not a Y, right?” Merlin asks, kicking at Leon's foot.

 

“Whatever, I got my point across.”

 

“So that leaves,” Merlin charts in his head, “Arthur picking Gwaine's? _baron_munchies_ , really?”

 

Arthur goes red to the roots of his Goldilocks hair. “It was supposed to be Baron Münchhausen but I didn't have enough characters.”

 

“And using just Münchhausen apparently didn't cross his mind,” Gwaine teases.

 

“I don't really think Merlin has any right to judge,” Mordred says, “when his username is as generic and boring as they come.”

 

“Yeah, well, Uther picked mine, I guess he's not very creative,” Merlin deadpans.

 

Morgana grins. “That he really isn't.”

 

~*~

 

The change is so subtle and gradual that, at first, Merlin misses it. It's the narrator of Gwaine's stories taking his time to prepare the second person or changing the sheets before they come over. It's checking if the other person is all right, it's doing what they want without being asked, it's the implication that they live together.

 

Off-handed little comments about daily life, a whispered kind word in the middle of rough sex, a compliment disguised as seduction, subtext and undertones. And Merlin misses them.

 

~*~

 

And then it's more than that. It's a long prelude about dinner and cuddling afterwards. It's picking the other person up from work to see the smile on their face. It's celebrating birthdays and anniversaries together. It's preparation and foreplay and aftercare, it's gifts and post-it notes and missing the other person when they're not there. And that's when Merlin does notice it. The shift from are-you-uncomfortably-aroused-yet dirty porn to this-is-me-this-is-what-I-want-to-have romance. The change from writing _for_ Merlin and writing _to_ him. The teasing becoming a suggestion.

 

And when Merlin reads, he may not be able to see Gwaine or hear him, but when the narrator touches his partner's lips and kisses between his eyes, Merlin feels a ghost of a touch and has to look away because it feels so private.

 

~*~

 

“But I haven't seen _Origins_ ,” Merlin says, already calculating if he can see it before they go out and not be late.

 

“Neither have I,” Gwen laughs, “or Elyan or Arthur or Leon... Actually, I'm pretty sure only Morgana and Gwaine have seen it and they said it was awful. Maybe Mordred also, he's a die-hard Marvel fan.”

 

Merlin is already looking both movies up on IMDb to see how connected they are. Shaftesbury lies forgotten behind his laptop.

 

“Mostly we're just gonna go watch Hugh Jackman be angry and hot. And angry,” she explains cheerfully.

 

“Okay, yeah, that I can be up for.” A part of him still wants to see _Origins_ first, because _continuity_ , but he compromises by swearing to see it later.

 

“Oh, umm. We have eight tickets, but Percy called and said he had to go see his sister about something so he's not coming, so, um.” Merlin frowns at the laptop he's closing. Gwen sounds nervous. “You can bring someone if you want? I mean, only if you want to, you know. We can sell the ticket if you don't.”

 

Merlin remembers the time Freya made him sit through a marathon of varyingly bad movies so she could rant about how Hugh Jackman is perfect. “Yeah, I definitely have someone to bring,” he replies with a grin. He hears Gwen sigh in relief on the other end of the line.

 

“Good,” she says, then quickly adds, “I wasn't sure if you would want to bring any of your friends, which is cool, I mean, if you don't want them to meet us—“

 

“Whoa, hang on, where is that coming from?”

 

“Well, we've been friends for almost a year now and well, we've never met your friends.” There's no judgement in her voice that he can hear, maybe a little worry and definitely a lot of understanding, like she knows they're not a group everyone can handle easily.

 

Merlin thinks back on all the times he's gone out with them and it's true, he's always cancelled either on them or on Freya and Will, he's never thought to introduce them. He doesn't think he was keeping them separate on purpose, but the fact is that he has been. He can see why Gwen would think he doesn't want them to meet.

 

“Well, I'm bringing Freya tonight,” he assures Gwen. He can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Good.”

 

~*~

 

_You lie down next to me, panting, your hand still on my chest like you can't let go. Your skin burns under my touch when I run my hand over your stomach, feeling your ragged breaths. I kiss your shoulder and you touch my face, nudge my head up. You kiss me, slowly and gently. I close my eyes._

 

Merlin touches the tips of his fingers to his bottom lip, imagining how Gwaine's lips would feel there. He hides his face in his hands smiling stupidly. He's not sure how one falls in love through reading dirty e-mails, but apparently, one does.

 

~*~

 

 _baron_munchies_ : merlin

 _baron_munchies_ : go out with me

 _tech_support_m_ : what is it?

 _tech_support_m_ : gwaine you know this is a public chat?

 _baron_munchies_ : do you really think i give a fuck

 _baron_munchies_ : yo everyone else in tech support

 _tech_support_l_ : oh man

 _tech_support_l_ : merlin, run

 _tech_support_l_ : run while you still can

 _baron_munchies_ : loretta????

 _tech_support_l_ : well at least you remember my name

 _tech_support_m_ : i don't even want to know

 _tech_support_l_ : gwaine picked me up at a bar once or twice

 _tech_support_m_ : i said i didn't want to know not please tell me more

 _tech_support_m_ : is there anyone here you haven't shagged

 _baron_munchies_ : im gonna stick around heer until you give me an answer merlin

 _baron_munchies_ : jsyk

 _tech_support_l_ : he will

 _tech_support_m_ : i don't doubt it

 _baron_munchies_ : then maybe you should say yes

 _tech_support_m_ : what if i say no

 _baron_munchies_ : i cancel the reservations at that lovely italian place down the street

 _baron_munchies_ : buy a bottle of vodka and get drunk

 _baron_munchies_ : and we're back to normal tomorrow

 _tech_support_m_ : yes

 _tech_support_l_ : awwwwww

 _tech_support_m_ : shut up loretta

 _baron_munchies_ : shut up loretta

 

~*~

 

Merlin doesn't know what possessed him to agree to a double date, but he's regretting doing it now. Arthur seems to be much of the same mind, poking at his food, his cheeks perpetually tinted red. He avoids making eye contact with anyone and when Percy leans in, he chokes on his food. Merlin is not quite as bad, perhaps because he's too amused by Arthur's behaviour, but he does get a little shifty when Gwaine's hand finds his knee.

 

“I'll bet you anything,” Gwaine whispers in Merlin's ear, his long hair tickling Merlin's face, “Percy is doing everything,” his hand moves up Merlin's thigh, “he can, _”_ and further up, “to make Arthur,” his hand moves to Merlin's crotch, “very uncomfortable,” he finishes, giving Merlin a light squeeze.

 

Merlin swallows the half-chewed bite of meat a bit too soon, but he was expecting Gwaine to pull something like this and he's ready. He turns his head and brushes his lips over Gwaine's cheek. “What makes you think Arthur isn't enjoying it?” He spreads his legs to underline the point, and pushes a little against Gwaine's hand. He watches Gwaine's eyes widen. “Maybe he's just playing the blushing bride, but he actually _loves_ it.” Merlin nips at Gwaine's ear, then goes back to his meal like nothing happened.

 

“Him or you?” Gwaine breathes out on a laugh still close enough that Merlin feels it on his skin. One corner of his mouth lifts and Gwaine's hand moves back to an innocent distance from his crotch.

 

“For the record,” Arthur says, “I hate you all.” Merlin gets the distinct impression that Arthur may have heard some of his conversation with Gwaine.

 

Percy leans over to touch his forehead to Arthur's. “We love you too, hon.” Merlin puts a hand over his mouth as he laughs at Arthur's expression.

 

~*~

 

Merlin whines disapprovingly when Gwaine tries to move off him. He pulls on Gwaine's hair, and shoves Gwaine's face back down on his cock. Gwaine opens his mouth wider and lets Merlin guide him down by fistfuls of hair. His throat squeezes around the head of Merlin's cock and his nose is buried in the coarse hairs on Merlin's lower abdomen, and Merlin whines long and high in his throat and impatiently tries to push for more, deeper, tighter even though he knows there's nowhere further to go. He looks down his body, over his pale chest, shiny with sweat, to where Gwaine's head is bracketed by his spread legs, Gwaine's hands resting on his thighs. Gwaine is looking up at him, his eyes half-closed and unfocused. Merlin waits for Gwaine to squeeze him or scratch him, _something_ to ask him to stop, let go, but Gwaine doesn't, his eyes start closing and he still doesn't and Merlin only needs a little more and he's gonna come, but he lets go, falls back onto the pillows, cursing when he hears Gwaine coughing as he gets used to breathing again.

 

“What is wrong with you,” Merlin groans at the ceiling, his hips moving up of their own accord, seeking some kind of relief. “You could have passed out.”

 

Gwaine leans over him, his lips shiny with spit and his hair completely messed up. “You wouldn't have let me,” he says confidently, running the tip of his nose over the side of Merlin's. His knee presses up against Merlin's balls and his cock leaves a wet trail over Merlin's hip.

 

“That's a lot of trust you're putting in someone half crazy with arousal,” Merlin laughs, grabbing at Gwaine's neck and pulling him down for a lazy kiss. Gwaine responds with slow, gentle pushes of his tongue and lips, a slow circling of his thumb over Merlin's hipbone. Merlin gets lost in the kiss until the edge of arousal is not so sharp anymore and his body is not so tightly wound. He tickles over Gwaine's ribs and Gwaine laughs. He nips at Merlin's bottom lip before he pulls away.

 

“You don't play fair,” he says.

 

Merlin grins. “All is fair in love and sex.”

 

“You mispronounced the word war.”

 

Merlin laughs, drags Gwaine back down to kiss him again, but Gwaine lies on top of him, buries his face in Merlin's neck and rubs his beard over Merlin's skin. Merlin tries to push him away and pull him closer at the same time, ends up just making a frustrated noise and scratching at Gwaine's back. Gwaine bites him, hard, worries the flesh under his teeth; Merlin yelps, then moans then sobs and only then Gwaine lets go.

 

“Asshole,” Merlin mumbles, pressing his fingers to his neck. It throbs pleasantly and he knows there's gonna be a dark bruise there tomorrow, surrounded by reddened, scratched skin. Gwaine pries his fingers away.

 

“A work of art,” he comments, leaning down to kiss the bruised spot. Merlin hums in response and weaves his fingers into Gwaine's hair, tries to comb through it. His other hand follows Gwaine's spine down from between his shoulder blades to the small of his back where he draws meaningless patterns. He presses Gwaine's body down into his own so he can feel every ridge and valley. He pushes up, rubbing his cock in the hair-covered fold where Gwaine's thighs meet his pelvis. Gwaine trails kisses down Merlin's shoulder and collarbone. Gwaine's hands sneak under Merlin's ass, grab him and squeeze lightly. “I want you on your knees,” Gwaine says, his voice low and raspy, sending a thrill through Merlin, relighting a fire in him. “I want to take you from behind, hold you by your shoulders and drag you back onto my cock.” Merlin arches his back and rubs himself against Gwaine. “Uh-uh,” Gwaine tsks in his ear, “you wouldn't be able to do that.”

 

“Oh?” Merlin prompts, trying to sound like Gwaine's not getting to him.

 

“No, I'd hold your hands in front of you, your face in the pillows and your ass in the air, and you wouldn't come until _I_ decided.”

 

“Wanna put your money where your mouth is?”

 

Gwaine pushes Merlin's arms above his head, kisses under Merlin's armpit, tickling him. “I wanna put _something_ where my mouth is,” Gwaine replies, already grinning like he can't resist saying it. Merlin turns his head to the side and laughs into his arm.

 

“There's something seriously wrong with you,” he says fondly, smiling down at Gwaine.

 

“Mmm, quite possibly,” Gwaine agrees. “But you love it.” He seals Merlin's lips with a quick kiss before Merlin can respond. Merlin expects another slow, teasing kiss, but Gwaine's all business this time, taking no prisoners when he kisses Merlin deeply and passionately. Merlin is on the verge of flipping Gwaine over and rutting against him until he comes when Gwaine grabs his hip and turns him around so he's lying on his stomach. “Do _not_ move your arms,” Gwaine says clearly, kissing the back of Merlin's neck. Merlin knows it's all play, he knows Gwaine won't seriously _punish_ him if he doesn't obey, that's not exactly how they work, but the stern order sends a shiver through him anyway and his arms stay in place as Gwaine kisses down his back. He grabs Merlin's knees and pushes them up so Merlin is half-kneeling with his legs spread, exposing him to Gwaine's eyes and hands.

 

Gwaine reaches over Merlin and digs the lube from under the pillows. He drips some on Merlin's lower back; Merlin arches his back at the sudden coolness on his skin. Gwaine dips two fingers in the gel and spreads it from where it's pooled on Merlin's back down his cleft. He presses against Merlin's opening enough to make Merlin moan into the pillow, but not enough to go in. Merlin tilts his head so he can look down his body. His cock stands proudly against his stomach, red and the tip wet. Gwaine's knees and thighs are partially visible between his legs and he can just make out Gwaine's full balls. His mouth waters.

 

He's so focused on watching that he doesn't pay attention to what Gwaine is doing until there's a finger slowly pushing into him. Merlin pushes up fast, Gwaine's finger slipping inside faster than either of them seems to expect; Merlin moans loudly. Gwaine's free hand lands on his ass, gentle and apologetic, but Merlin doesn't need that, not right now. “More,” he says. Gwaine's hand twitches, he gives a few experimental pushes with his finger and when Merlin keeps moaning for more, he obliges, pushing another finger in. It's a little too fast, a little too much, a little too rough, but Merlin _wants_ it. The combination of Gwaine's ordering words still in his ears, the limitations on what he can see and feel, the submissive position he's in and the control Gwaine has over him make his head swim and his stomach turn and his thighs shake. He feels his cock twitch against his stomach when Gwaine's fingers start moving, fast and deep right from the start.

 

“Hands behind your back,” Gwaine says determinedly. Merlin doesn't even think about, his arms immediately moving back, bending at the elbows. His neck strains and his breathing becomes labored. He turns a little to the side, his spine curving to allow for more room so he can breathe a little more easily. Gwaine curves his fingers expertly, and Merlin's whole body seizes. His abdominal muscles spasm and he falls to his side, Gwaine's fingers slipping out. Merlin doesn't even have time to recover when Gwaine pushes Merlin's legs up with his knee, he shoves both his fingers into Merlin again, finding no resistance. Merlin closes his eyes and curls in on himself. “Yes, yes,” he mumbles, “I'm ready, come _on_.”

 

Gwaine grunts, steadies himself on Merlin's hip with one slick hand and guides himself into Merlin, bottoming out in one smooth push. “Fucking hell,” Merlin breathes. He doesn't even notice his arms are still behind his back until Gwaine holds both of his wrists in one hand as he leans over. He nudges at Merlin's cheek with his nose.

 

“All right?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” Merlin answers quickly, “yeah, fuck. Yes.”

 

“Good,” Gwaine says, kissing his shoulder. He pulls out a little, makes a shallow push inside. Merlin squeezes around him to speed him up. “You want more?” Gwaine asks, repeating the motion.

 

“You know I do, _please._ ”

 

Gwaine laughs in his ear. He pulls out further and pushes in harder. Merlin's whole body moves up the bed. “Tell me,” he says. He underlines the request with a few more pushes into Merlin, faster and deeper.

 

“You can't last forever,” Merlin grits out, pushing back.

 

Gwaine runs an open palm over Merlin's cock, the touch nowhere near what Merlin wants, but still enough to make him moan and try to follow Gwaine's hand as it moves away. “Longer than you,” Gwaine teases, pushing all the way into Merlin and rolling his hips.

 

Merlin groans. “Ughhh, just fuck me, okay, fuck me, _please_.”

 

Gwaine grabs Merlin's hips and manhandles him so that he's kneeling up again, Gwaine holding him up as he starts fucking him in earnest. Merlin's body goes liquid in Gwaine's hands; he feels like he's sinking into the mattress; the only thing keeping him grounded are the rough pushes of Gwaine's cock into him. He tries to rub himself against the sheets but they're too far away.

 

“Told you,” Gwaine says, plastering himself over Merlin's back, his arms wrapping around Merlin's chest. “Not until I _let_ you.” Merlin whines and tries to fuck himself on Gwaine's cock, but Gwaine stands up, pulling Merlin up with him. Merlin's head lolls back onto Gwaine's shoulder and he mouths at Gwaine's jaw, a little out of it with how Gwaine holds him close, tightly, warm hands glued to Merlin's skin. Merlin arches his back to give Gwaine a better angle to fuck him. Gwaine puts a hand on Merlin's hip to help his balance and takes Merlin up on the obvious invitation. His other arm keeps Merlin kneeling up. Gwaine nudges at Merlin's forehead, drawing his attention to what is happening. Merlin opens his eyes and focuses as best as he can.

 

Gwaine's hips speed up, making Merlin's eyes roll back briefly, before he remembers that Gwaine wants him to pay attention. Slowly, Gwaine's arm moves, bends around Merlin's neck, his forearm pushing Merlin's chin up and pressing against his throat. Surprised, Merlin tries to make a noise, but that only makes him choke when there's not enough air to take in. Gwaine's grip loosens, but he doesn't slow down. Merlin looks at Gwaine's face and finds him looking back, fascinated, like Merlin is the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Merlin reaches back to grab at Gwaine's hip, pulls him closer. His other hand pushes at Gwaine's wrist to press his arm into his own throat. He's rewarded by a guttural moan. Gwaine gradually presses harder down on Merlin's neck. Merlin's breathing shallows and stars begin to dance in front of his eyes. His vision begins to blur and he's hardly breathing at all; the chokehold Gwaine's got him in keeps intensifying. Gwaine is saying something, but Merlin can't make out what it is.

 

For some reason, he thinks of the story about how boiling the frog slowly ensures it doesn't even notice what's coming, and he briefly thinks that Gwaine could kill him like this and Merlin wouldn't stop him, wouldn't even notice until it was too late. The thought of that much control, his entire life, that he's willingly putting into somebody else's hands excites him. The lack of oxygen makes everything feel sharper but melded together at the same time, and when Gwaine tightens his arm so much Merlin can't breathe at all, when Gwaine keeps him choking like that for long enough that a frisson of fear runs through him, he comes.

 

Gwaine lets go of him immediately, letting his body collapse forward; he barely manages to catch himself on his forearms. Gwaine runs a soothing hand over his ribs, which expand as he takes harsh, shallow breaths. Merlin lets his head rest on the bed, his eyes are open but barely taking notice of his surroundings. He notices that his cock is still twitching pathetically, the last drops of come staining the sheet under him. Slowly, he becomes aware of the fact that Gwaine is leaning over him, whispering in his ear how well he did, how hot that was, asking if he is okay.

 

Merlin clears his throat, croaks, “I'm okay, I'm fine.” He reaches behind himself, intending to pull Gwaine closer, to let him know that it's okay, that he can go on. Gwaine intercepts his hand, laces their fingers together and brings their joined hands to the bed to support himself as he fucks Merlin fast and without rhythm until he comes.

 

They collapse onto the bed, Gwaine pressing Merlin down into the mattress, panting harshly against his neck. Merlin closes his eyes and drifts off, trusting Gwaine to get off him before he crushes him.

 

~*~

 

“Hey, um, I'm sorry to ask you, but is there any chance you can think of a half-decent excuse for me if Gwaine and I don't show up tonight?” He runs his fingers through Gwaine's hair, tucking it behind his ear. Gwaine nuzzles at Merlin's bare hip sleepily.

 

“Suppose I could,” Freya says, sounding a little distant over the phone. “Not that they won't know what's really going on,” she adds, a lilt in her voice that makes Merlin laugh.

 

“We're not staying in to _fuck_ ,” he replies. Freya makes a non-committal sound. “It's a date, Freya, I swear.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You go ahead with your _date_. I'll think of something.”

 

“Thanks,” Merlin replies. Gwaine's eyes are half-open now, but he doesn't look up or even move, he just caresses the soft skin of Merlin's inner thigh with his fingers, no intent behind it, just a gentle touch. Merlin closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

 

“Hey, Merlin?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I don't think you've ever missed  _Disney_ Sunday.”

 

“No, I don't think so.” He scratches at Gwaine's beard, the sound soothingly familiar. Gwaine turns and kisses his fingers.

 

“This must be getting really serious.”

 

Merlin pushes his fingers past Gwaine's lips and Gwaine sucks on them gently. Merlin smiles. “We'll see. Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


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